Circle of Life
by AstroGirl
Summary: Scorpius holds John, Aeryn, and their unborn child captive on the Command Carrier. AU branching off from 'Into the Lion's Den.'


**Circle of Life  
by AstroGirl**

_Command Carrier, Commanding Officer's Log: Special Gammak Leader Scorpius recording_

The attempt by Bialar Crais to destroy this Carrier using the hybrid Leviathan has failed. Former Captain Crais has been executed, and the hybrid has been shut down pending research we do not, at the moment, have the luxury to pursue. The Leviathan Moya has been captured and returned to Peacekeeper service. John Crichton and Officer Aeryn Sun are safely in custody, and I have resumed my efforts to extract the wormhole information from Crichton's mind. The remaining members of the Leviathan crew were killed in an attempt to escape, against my direct orders. The officers responsible have been dealt with.

* * *

On the security monitor screen, John Crichton lay in the arms of Aeryn Sun, his body sweat-drenched and shaking with the familiar aftereffects of the Aurora Chair.

"It's not working," said Braca quietly, "is it, sir?"

Scorpius did not take his eyes from the human's image. "No. I had believed, since the wormhole knowledge appeared to be manifesting itself in his subconscious, that it would now be accessible to the Aurora Chair. Apparently, the blocks installed by the Ancients are more formidable than I had anticipated. The more we probe, the stronger the resistance." He struggled to keep the Scarran snarl from his voice, to control the rage and frustration rising inside him. "It seems I have miscalculated."

"You'll come up with another plan, sir. You always do."

Scorpius turned at last, favoring Braca with a smile. "Your confidence is touching, Lieutenant. And, I hope, not misplaced." He looked back at the screen for a long, silent moment, thoughts whirring and settling in his mind. "I understand from the medical examination that Officer Sun is pregnant."

Braca seemed unfazed by this apparent non sequitur. "Yes. Stasis pregnancy, probably less than a year old. Tests indicate that Crichton is the father."

Scopius nodded. "Tell the medical division to have the stasis released."

"Sir?" Braca looked surprised for a moment, then a sly expression crossed his face. "Ah. You're intending to hold Sun and her fetus hostage against his cooperation."

"Nothing so straightforward, I'm afraid." He waved a hand at the screen. "Look at him, Braca. If he were capable of voluntary cooperation, I think we would have it by now. No, his mental blocks have been reinforced to the point where I doubt he could give us the information now if he desired to."

"Then I don't understand. What use will it be to release the pregnancy?"

Scorpius smiled. "Those blocks apply only to Crichton. They will not be in place in his offspring." Braca only looked more puzzled, so Scorpius continued. "Acquired memories -- or implanted memories -- are not passed down from parent to child in DNA. But there is more to living organisms than mere DNA. The Scarrans have pioneered revolutionary techniques for extracting chemical memories from living cells, and I have gained access to this research from... Well, let us say 'from reliable sources.'"

"You think you can extract the wormhole knowledge from Crichton's child?" Braca's voice was incredulous.

"Yes." Scorpius touched a gloved finger gently to the monitor screen, covering both Crichton's head and Aeryn Sun's midsection, then looked back at Braca. " I will require a live full-term offspring. Grayza's policy of appeasement towards the Scarrans is nothing short of suicidal, but it is likely to buy us a period of illusory peace before they are prepared to attack. It may be sufficient."

"I'll see to it, sir," said Braca.

"Immediately, Lieutenant."

* * *

It did not go smoothly.

The signs were subtle at first: a slightly raised body temperature, some indication of mental deterioration that could be plausibly attributed to long confinement. And then one night he was awakened by the sound of screaming coming from the cell monitor he now left on night and day.

Sun lay slumped against the wall of her cell, her body soaked in sweat, her eyes twitching madly behind closed lids, and her head lolling from side to side as her mate ranted and wailed and begged his unseen audience for help.

Part of him hoped it was a ruse, some foolish, daring, Crichtonesque plan for escape. But even watching through a camera, unable to read their energy signatures, he knew otherwise. This grief, this worry, was not feigned.

So, when the bad news came, he was prepared.

* * *

"What you are saying is that her body is rejecting the fetus?"

The medtech cringed a little, as if fearful that Scorpius would lash out against him as the bearer of unwelcome news. "Yes, sir. She appears to be in a fairly advanced state of heat delirium. It came on very quickly. We believe that the metabolism of the fetus had reached a level where--"

Scorpius waved a hand. "Spare me the minute details." He looked over at Aeryn Sun's unconscious form, her belly distended with pregnancy, her sweat-sheened face bright with fever, and suddenly found himself overcome with a strange, deeply visceral feeling of revulsion. No, not revulsion... _uncleanness_. It hit him like a wave of nausea, and he closed his eyes for a moment, forcing it down, pushing it back into the small, dark place where he kept the least acceptable of his emotions. Now was not the time for such feelings, nor was it the time to examine them. Practicality was all, and time was of the essence. He turned back to the medtech. "Will the child live?"

"I don't think it very likely, sir. The host will probably die within the weeken if it's not removed."

"Can a suitable substitute be found?"

"I... don't think so, sir. Our best research suggests that only a member of the sire's species -- a 'human' -- is likely to be able to provide the necessary fetal environment."

"And there are no humans within sixty cycles' travel."

"No, sir." The medtech looked apologetic. It seemed a woefully inadequate response to Scorpius, considering that it was the future of his entire civilization that was at stake.

There had to be a way. Failure was simply unacceptable. "Not true, he said. There is _one_..."

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" Crichton raised his head woozily and started down at his newly distended torso, blinking slowly. Scorpius wondered how much he remembered of the lead-up to the procedure. Quite possibly very little. The drugs that had been necessary to ensure a smooth transfer were known to have side effects involving short-term memories formed immediately prior to their use.

He gave Crichton a smile he was not quite foolish enough to believe the human would find reassuring, however sincerely it was meant. "Hello, John. How are you feeling?"

"Scorpy." Crichton's voice was slurred slightly, and his tongue worked inside his mouth as if trying to remove a bad taste. "What... What did you do to me? Is this...?" One hand came up to rest on his belly. Scorpius had not seen the need for restraints, given the human's drugged and weakened condition.

"Yes, John. Your child." He smiled again. "Doing quite well now, I'm given to understand."

Crichton shook his head and laughed, a high, hysterical sound. Not a good sign with regards to his mental condition, but if all went well, his mental condition should be irrelevant soon. "All those Junior High sex ed films... must've fallen asleep during this part..."

Curious, Scorpius looked down at him. "What do you remember?"

"''Member? I remember... what you said about the baby. Aeryn was..." He tried to sit up, and Scorpius pushed him gently back down with a hand to his shoulder, easily overcoming his feeble struggles. "Where's Aeryn? Where...?"

"Officer Sun is... resting," he said in as carefully neutral a tone as possible. His gaze strayed over to the other side of the medical chamber, where Sun's body lay, still breathing, but unmoving and unaware. Her prognosis was not good, and Scorpius had not yet decided whether preserving her life or ending it would have a more desirable effect on Crichton's behavior. He rather hoped the latter would prove to be the better course of action. He found looking at her delirium-wracked form... displeasing, for reasons he did not care to examine too closely.

"I want... want to see..."

"Shhh, shhh, John." Scorpius's hand stayed where it was, gently pressing Crichton against the bed. "You must rest, also. For the sake of your offspring." His other hand gently touched Crichton's belly, as if feeling for the life beneath. No movement greeted him, but he fancied he could see the child's energy signature, faintly visible through layers of flesh, growing stronger as he watched. Crichton beat a hand ineffectively against his, and he reluctantly withdrew his touch.

"Want... Aeryn..." But the drugs were gaining ground on him again, his words slurred into near un-intelligibility. "Want... wake up. Bad dream..."

Scorpius's restraining hand eased up its pressure, patting Crichton's shoulder gently, instead, as he slipped back into fitful sleep. "Alas, I'm afraid not." He smoothed down the human's tousled hair. "Don't worry, John. I'll take excellent care of your child. I promise. I shall treat it... as if it were my own."

He smiled again, but for some reason the expression wouldn't stay on his face for long.

* * *

Crichton's condition deteriorated as the fetus grew. The pressure it exerted on his internal organs caused considerable pain, and frequent, often debilitating, medical intervention was necessary to safeguard its health, leaving Crichton's body weakened even as the child's grew stronger. But these were fairly trivial concerns, as Scorpius's medical staff assured him they were in no way life-threatening. The same could not necessarily be said of the human's mental state, which was deteriorating more rapidly than his body. Scorpius had allowed him access to the still-vegetative body of Aeryn Sun; it appeared to calm him. He spent most of his days speaking to her, and to his increasingly rounded belly. Scorpius failed to understand the point of speaking to entities that could neither hear nor respond, but that could perhaps be shrugged off as another of the human's peculiarities. Of more concern was the _content_ of these one-sided conversations: overblown, sentimental nonsense would abruptly give way to intense expressions of guilt and regret, which would segue into bouts of hysterical laughter. Even for Crichton, the instability was striking. Scorpius ordered him put under round-the-clock on-site observation, lest he attempt self-destruction, but, while he appeared to consider it once or twice, he never followed through.

Scorpius found himself growing weary, and increasingly impatient for it all to be over.

* * *

"Is it time?" Scorpius stood over Crichton's semi-conscious, grotesquely swollen form.

The medtech nodded. "Yes. Our tests show the offspring should be fully viable, and Crichton's condition is worsening rapidly. Now would appear to be the optimal time for removal."

"Very well. Proceed."

"Yes, sir." The medtech swallowed nervously. "There is something you should know, however. As I said, the human's condition has worsened faster than anticipated. It's likely... Well, to be blunt, sir, I think it's doubtful he'll survive the shock of the extraction."

"But the offspring will?"

"Yes, sir. We're quite certain of it."

He looked down at the human's pale, feverish face, tossing restlessly back and forth as if searching for something elusive behind the closed lids of his eyes. So. It came to this. After their cycles as predator and prey, after having become... whatever it was they had become to each other. It was regrettable. Regrettable, but necessary. "Do it, then."

"Yes sir." The medtech made a gesture and his associates scrambled into position, manning the monitoring equipment, standing by with drugs, blankets, and a sterile incubator-unit, should any of them prove necessary for the offspring's welfare. "Preparing to make the incision... now." He paused with the knife poised above Crichton's abdomen, then, at Scorpius's nod, began to cut.

Crichton's eyes flew open. Hazy and pain-filled, they locked onto Scorpius's. "Scorpy..."

Scorpius gently touched Crichton's arm, not enough to jostle him and ruin the surgeon's work. "Yes, John?"

"Do you think," Crichton rasped, "that your momma... would have been proud?" His eyes, suddenly as clear and hard as chips of water-stone, bored into Scorpius's own.

A cry of rage flew from Scorpius's throat, its sound lost in the wild rushing that suddenly filled his ears. "_Do not speak about my mother!_" A microt passed before he realized he had snarled it in Scarran, and another before he became aware that his hand was about Crichton's throat, and that Crichton was laughing even as he choked, even as tears poured down his face.

"Monster," Crichton whispered. "Just like... your dad."

His hand tightened convulsively, cutting off Crichton's words, cutting off his breath. Blood spurted from his abdomen, splattering them both. The medtech was saying something, but Scorpius could not hear his words over the memory of other words from another time. _You killed her... During the gestation, she pleaded for death..._

For a long moment, he was aware only of the voice in his mind, the red haze that stole his vision. At last, external stimuli began to filter through again. A hand resting against his armored shoulder. A voice -- Braca's, he realized with a start, and when had he come in? -- saying, "Sir? Sir? Are you all right?" The crying of an infant.

With a deep, shuddering breath he regained himself, released his clenched fist. The human's throat dropped limply from his grasp, and his head lolled against the bed, blue eyes dull and lifeless. "Yes," he said. "Yes, Braca. Thank you."

He turned to the trembling medtech, who held out a squalling, blood-covered baby. "Is it... healthy?"

"Yes, sir. Alive and well."

"Very good." He straightened up and drew in another long breath. Control. He must have control.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right sir?" came Braca's voice, gentle in his ear.

"It doesn't matter, Braca. It doesn't matter what I am." He waves him away. "All that matters... is this. _Winning._ Only winning."

He reached out and very gently took hold of the child. He caressed it tenderly and wiped it clean of its parent's drying blood.

Then he took it to the experimental chamber. Because it was what he had to do.

He did not look back at Crichton's lifeless face.


End file.
